That '70s Show S3E9 Script

Hyde's Christmas Rager (2000)

All right, Hyde.

Your dad's apartment is the perfect place for a party.

It's already trashed.

Even if half the people we invited show up, this party's gonna rock.

Did you find the cups? Nope.

Even better, a plastic tube and a funnel.

All this and a dirty funnel? Merry Christmas to me.

Yeah, we don't even have to worry about germs, because even though our spit backs up in the tube, the alcohol kills them.

We're leaving. So leaving.

Wait, you're leaving?

Yeah, see, when I was a little girl, I made a promise to myself.

"Self," I said, "if you're ever about to suck beer out of a funnel that might give you mono, don't."

So, bye-bye.

All right, Kelso, I'm gonna nix the funnel on account of I think it repels women.

Hey, any woman who doesn't appreciate a nice funnel isn't much of a woman.

Hey, guys. Hey.

What's with the keg?

Throwing a little party. You know, 'tis the season to get sloppy.

Well... You're cool with this, right?

Sure, yeah. Cool dad, that's me. Totally cool dad.

Hey, listen. Have a merry, uh, keg party.

Mr. Hyde, you're the best.

Yeah, you're the best.

Will you be my daddy?

I'm not kidding.

Seriously.

Hey, Fez, can you grab this for me? Sure.

You know, Kelso, four times is not funny.

Um, yes, it is.

Guess who? Eric, it's your mum!

I'm not... j& Deck the halls with boughs of holly j& Fa la la la la j&

Oh, you're caroling. That is so odd.

Well, happy holidays.

Look what I brought. Mistletoe!

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh.

j& Fa la la la la j&

Now, Steven, I brought some beautiful Christmas ornaments to hang on your antenna.

Mrs. Forman, you're not checking up on me, are you?

No, no. I'm just spreading a little holiday cheer.

Dusty.

Oh, and this blanket, it needs a nice Christmas washing.

No, no, no, no, no! That's Bud's Christmas stool.

Very sentimental. If anybody touches it, he just goes nuts, so...

Huh.

Well, I don't quite believe you, but okay. Okay.

So Bud left you boys here unsupervised?

Oh.

Salami in the couch.

Now, that's sanitary.

Okay, okay, then...

Why don't you boys hang up those angels?

And, Eric, come in here and help me with the traditional holiday floor wax.

Mum, seriously, we're okay.

Okay? You can go, really.

Oh, good. Fez is making ice.

j& Hanging out

j& Down the street j& The same old thing j& We did last week j& Not a thing to do j& But talk to you j& We're all, all right j& We're all, all right j&

Hello, Wisconsin!

Listen to this.

"Corner him under the mistletoe. Eight ways to trick a guy into a relationship."

I love the holidays.

Yeah, hanging your stocking, putting cookies out for Santa, setting a mantrap.

Mmm, Christmas.

You know, Donna, this'll be the first year I celebrate Christmas without a boyfriend.

And Jesus wept.

So here's my new plan for the year.

Buy some really cute tops, fly to Hollywood, and marry Lee Majors.

Make fun of that, I dare you.

Jackie, there are so many ways to make fun of that I don't even know where to start.

It's like choosing your favorite jellybean.

Donna, be nice to me. I'm lonely.

I mean, okay, if there were mistletoe over me right now who would kiss me?

No one, that's who.

Being alone isn't that bad.

It's a great opportunity to get to know yourself and be comfortable with who you are.

Donna, I already love myself. I just wanna French someone.

I miss my funnel.

Eric, drink. Okay.

If I was Tattoo, and I lived on Fantasy Island, my fantasy would be to not be a midget. Am I right?

Eenie, meenie, miney, Forman.

You know, Hyde, at first I thought your dad was a real dirt bag.

But I've come to realize that there's a fine line between dirt bag and Father of the Year!

Damn.

Fellows, I have to be honest.

I've never played quarters before, so I probably stink.

Oh. Happy day. Eric.

Man, this is the worst game in the world.

I'm so thirsty.

Damn it! Eric, drink!

I mean, he lives on Fantasy Island, man, and he's a midget!

It's so obvious.

Hmm.

Forman.

Does anyone else feel kind of woozy?

Oh, what the hell, man?

If I make this shot, I promise I will not pick you, Eric.

I pick you, Eric.

It's fun to lie.

Donna, that's Fireman Rob and Fireman Dean. They're firemen!

Jackie, they're like 40.

Whatever. They're firemen!

Two hot firemen in a bar. This is just like that play I wrote.

Okay, give me five minutes.

I'll pick the one I want, and you can have the other.

Hello! I'm dating someone, Eric.

Donna, Dean can bench-press a keg.

Eric can't even bench-press a cup.

He can, too.

Rob, Dean, this is Donna.

So what do you girls do?

That's funny you should ask. We go to high school!

Any outside interests? Uh-huh. High school guys!

Kelso, it's fine. I'm not that drunk.

I just...

I just can't walk or see.

Man, that was... That was a great party!

You know who doesn't like parties?

Red.

"I'm Red!

"I don't like parties

"because I'm a big, bald party pooper!"

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh.

Son of a bitch!

Eric, when did you eat spaghetti?

I knew something was going on at Bud's.

When I went over there, the only thing in the fridge, olives.

And poor Fez had ice in his pants.

My head hurts.

That's your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

I mean, what kind of parent leaves a bunch of teenagers alone with a keg?

A fun one?

Hey, Jim Beam, can it.

Red, you need to have a talk with Bud. No.

Eric's home now.

And what goes on between Bud and Steven is between Bud and Steven.

He's just not a good dad.

Well, you know what?

I agree. So, I think we should get in the car, pick up Steven, and move him back in with us and feed him

and clothe him and love him.

No.

I'm not loving anybody that I'm not legally required to.

Fine, I'll call Bud.

And, Eric, I'll deal with you later. Thank you.

Mummy, I don't feel so good.

Well, if you're gonna get sick again, why don't you throw up under the tree because Christmas is ruined!

Oh, no.

So tell me more about the big ladder thingy.

The cherry picker?

Funny story. True story.

Okay, Jackie, this is a nightmare, and we're leaving.

Okay.

Look, Donna, you have a boyfriend, I don't.

And maybe I don't want to sit home alone every night.

And if somebody doesn't tell me I'm cute in the next five minutes, I'm gonna scream!

Hi. Sorry, my friend was being a wet blanket.

Well, maybe I should talk to her.

I mean, a wet blanket's a fireman's best friend.

Boy, something about you is so familiar.

You know, I get that all the time.

See, from the right, I look like Gidget and from the left, I look like Elizabeth Taylor. Neat, huh?

Oh, it's your laugh!

You know, I used to date a girl with the same laugh, but that was 20 years ago.

She dumped me and married some rich lawyer.

Burk... Burkhart. That was it.

Oh, my God, that's my name, and my dad's a rich lawyer!

Oh, my God!

So, Jackie, was this in the play you wrote?

Kitty, why are you smoking?

It's my Yuletide cigarette.

To celebrate all the children who spend black Christmases with bad parents.

Kitty, put that out.

Back off, Grinch.

Hey, Red. Hey, Kitty.

Bad parent.

Is she all right? Hmm?

Oh, yeah. Sit down, Bud.

Kitty, sweetheart, why don't you leave us alone for a minute?

A boy can't live on olives.

Bud...

Eric just came back from your place falling-down drunk.

He threw up on my shoes.

Now, what were you thinking, leaving kids alone with a keg?

Look, Red, I've never really been a dad before.

I'm just trying to...

I don't know, take it easy, be his friend.

Why would you be friends with a 17-year-old?

They're idiots.

Bud, being a teenager is like being in combat.

One minute you're crawling around half-blind, the next, you're looking for your own foot.

Follow me? Not really.

I was a conscientious Canadian.

Well, if you weren't chicken, and you did fight, who would you want as your lieutenant, me or you?

Well, you, 'cause you're mean and scary.

That's right. Steven doesn't need another friend, Bud.

Steven needs somebody to ride his ass.

He may not like it. He may not thank you for it.

He may do impressions of you behind your back.

He thinks he's so damn funny.

But the point is, he'll know right from wrong because you did your job.

Bread, ham, bananas, milk, because there are four food groups, Bud, four!

I am so grossed out.

I need a Calgon bath, a facial, some Tater Tots, and some Jean Nate.

This night was the worst. I know.

I mean, I am not gonna find love in a bar.

All I'm gonna find there are guys who used to French my mom.

I mean, just this morning, I was playing with my Pretty Ponies.

And look what you've done to me, Donna, look!

Me?

I'm not the one who hooked up with the Volunteer Fire Department.

I am never gonna meet anybody, and I'm never, ever gonna feel better, ever.

Jackie, when you're sad, you look exactly like Mary Tyler Moore.

Oh, my God! Donna, I do!

I am gonna make it after all!

Damn!

Okay, everybody, here we go.

Now, if I catch on fire, you promise to put me out?

Well, I'm sure someone will. Right, guys?

Okay, great.

Steven, I gotta talk...

What the hell are you doing? It is complicated.

All right, that's it. Party's over. Everybody out.

What the hell are you doing, Bud?

Steven, this place is a madhouse.

The kids are all over the place, and this guy could've burst into flames.

Well, we'll never know now, will we, Bud?

Look, Eric went home so drunk, he threw up all over Red's shoes.

That's good stuff.

No, it's not good stuff. And you know what else? It's forbidden.

So, what, you're, like, trying to play father now?

I'm not playing. I am your father.

You wanna stay here, you're gonna do what I tell you.

Oh, really? Yeah, really.

I'll be damned if you're gonna end up looking for your own foot on my watch!

Now, clean up all this crap, take the trash out, and eat a banana, dumb ass!

Now he's all strict.

I gotta do my homework, and he keeps talking about nutrition.

So, I guess, what I'm hearing from all this is, Hyde loves his daddy.

Shut up, Forman. I do not. Yes, you do. Yes, you do.

And Daddy loves his little Hyde.

And that's why he yells at him, and tucks him into bed and puts on his little footsie pajamas, and reads him bedtime stories!

Hey, thanks, Steven. I'll take over from here.

Now, about last night. You know what, Dad?

Before you get started, I know what you're gonna say.

Oh, really?

What do you know?

That I was irresponsible and stupid.

And I have it on good authority that I may have called you something.

Like, um, "big, bald party pooper"?

For instance. But the point is, Dad, I'm really ashamed and sorry and afraid.

Hmm.

Okay. Well, that covers it.

Okay, good talk.

That's it? I get off scot-free?

I mean, I learnt a valuable lesson?

Look, Son, you're grown up now.

You know what you did wrong.

And I am too tired to keep thinking up new and exciting ways to punish you.

So, merry Christmas.

Are you kidding me?

I don't get in trouble, and you're giving me a Christmas present?

Oh, boy, this is the best Christmas ever!

Actually, you know, this really smells.

Yeah, those are my shoes from last night.

Clean them, buff them, and shine them.

Ho-ho-ho!

Dumb ass!

Damn.

Damn it.

Oh, come on!